


Crash Point

by leinthalexandra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Rule 63, always-a-girl!Dean, season 5, warnings for some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leinthalexandra/pseuds/leinthalexandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This was it. The big “yes.” Her consent, her single word, could make all the difference." 5.18, Deanna and Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash Point

_“I say we fight. Screw Heaven and Hell and their Apocalypse. They want to have it out, they can find their own damn planet.”_ A grim smile spread across her face as her own words echoed in her mind. She’d been so fucking naïve, not even a whole year ago—sad little girl with delusions of freedom, ready to kick up some shit and go down swinging. But she’d grown up. Her eyes had been forced open in all the worst ways.  
  
And now, after all her bluster, after swearing up and down that no, she’d never do that, never would say that one little word…here she stood. Ready to give up her mind and her body and everything that made her _Deanna_. This was their only recourse, the only way to keep the Devil off their backs and away from her brother. This was her job, her one job, and she wasn’t going to screw it up this time.  
  
This was it. The big “yes.” Her consent, her single word, could make all the difference. And the angels could try to force her hand, twist her arm until she screamed, but at the end of the day, it all came down to Deanna’s choice. She was the “Righteous Man,” after all—and it made her laugh a little, even now. And this way, no one else would get hurt. She would make sure of it.  
  
Every step she took as she approached the Bible thumper kid felt weighed down with lead, her pulse beating wild with adrenaline. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she muttered as he started praying _(Our Father, who art in Heaven…)_. If she thought too much about this, Deanna knew herself well enough to realize that she’d chicken out. _Only way out, only way out, have to keep the Devil off my brother, I’ve got to—_  
  
“You pray too loud,” said a low, rough voice. The kid was shoved aside, and two hands grabbed ahold of Deanna, dragging her into the nearby alley. She found herself face to face with a falling angel, who looked for all the world as though the full fury of Heaven was at his disposal, his features were twisted up by rage. She hadn’t factored Castiel into her plans, and it had been a serious mistake. She should have known he’d figure it out. He knew her mind too well, almost as well as Sam did.  
  
“Are you crazy?” she yelled, staring at him with shock and disbelief.  
  
“I rebelled for _this_?” Castiel shouted, his fist striking out. Deanna felt her jaw crack from the blow, shocks of pain running through her skull. Another punch, this time aimed at her stomach. She stumbled, gasped for breath, seeing stars as her vision blacked out. Her knees tried to give out under her, but Castiel dragged her back up, landing another hit, and another. She could feel the bruises forming already, a familiar, painful ache she’d known from years of hunting and fighting to survive. She tasted the blood on her lip, felt the punches echo down through her skin. “So you could surrender to _them_?”  
  
She could have fought back, she knew, but she let him break her down. Even as it jarred her bones and blood welled up in her mouth, underneath, it was her mind that took the hits. She needed someone to stop her from doing this—this insane plan of hers, try to halt the warring in her brain between _just say yes_ and _no, I don’t need Michael, we can do this ourselves_. Words wouldn’t work here, not anymore. Fighting was what Deanna knew, what she had spent her whole life doing, and dammit, old habits were hard to break.  
  
He shoved her up against the wall once more, his face barely an inch from hers. The hard bricks scraped against her back through the thin cotton of her shirts. “I gave everything for you,” he said, his voice dark with fury, “And this is what you give me.” Without preamble, he dropped her to the ground, and she stared up at him.  
  
“Do it,” she challenged. “Just do it!” It didn’t matter how fucking desperate she sounded. She wanted it all to stop, the Apocalypse and the angels and everything that weighed down on her shoulders. This was her breaking point, where she would have almost taken Hell over this. One way or another, she just wanted it to _end_.  
  
Castiel stared at her, disappointment quickly replacing rage. Then his expression softened, so fleeting that she almost missed it, and as he touched a hand to her left shoulder, everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wanted to try to write the alley-scene with Deanna as opposed to Dean, so I rule 63'ed it. Hopefully I did all right.


End file.
